


on the road driver is a longdriver

by Den_dun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Den_dun/pseuds/Den_dun
Summary: Yuri runs away from home and mostly because of his lack of brains - although he prefers to put it as avoiding being killed or something worse by his sincerely beloved stepfather - which leads him to the web of highways from Saint-Petersburg to the destination he is yet to decide. On his way to nowhere he faces dangers, adventures, the inner beauty of Russia and a strange Kazakh truck driver, who manages to efficiently save him from some real shit.





	on the road driver is a longdriver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chwome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwome/gifts), [Aggoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aggoria/gifts).



> "Otets nebesniy, blagoslovi etot fanfik", prayed Mamkan. (c) Mamkan
> 
> ("Our Father in Heaven, bless this fanfiction", prayed Mamkan)
> 
> English is not my native language, so, please beware. You're free to point out any mistakes I've made and I would be happy to hear any of your notes.  
> All Russian words are transliterated and written in itallics with the translation below. However, I'm not sure about it and will gladly change it if you find such format unsuitable or inconvenient. There also be some notes about life in Russia, apparently, as life in that country differs greatly from many English-speaking countries.

Yuri Plisetsky was many things: a son, a friend, a (former) ice skater, a troubled teenager and a hot-headed bundle of naked nerves which obviously didn’t serve him well most of the times. Moreover, according to his genuinely beloved _otchim_ he was also a worthless piece of shit, an annoying brat with the lack of self-discipline and a _viblyadok_ of his whore mother to whom he happened to be misfortunately married and who had had the nerve to pass away and left her bastard son with him. Summing up, Yuri Plisetsky was an interesting many-sided person. And this sides definitely didn’t include an idiot side for he was not an idiot (well, maybe a little) or at least had enough brain cells to pick his battles wisely and to know when there is the best time to run. Or _drapat’_ as his _gopnik_ friends liked to say.

And the conditions in which he had lived until now was this very occasion. He just hadn’t have enough courage to acknowledge it yet.

 _«Blya»_ , said Yuri, wiping blood streaming down from his nose with his hoodie’s sleeve. The door into the bathroom behind him creaked loudly from the pressure of an adult man’s body slamming into it. _«Huevo»_. He concluded shortly.

 _Huevo_ was his most common life state but admitting it usually didn’t contribute much into the dealing with it. His _otchim_ roared something as offensive as it was expected about him being a _pedik_ and his mother being a _blyad’_ and hit the door once more. Yuri swallowed, leaning to it and hoping that things will be alright this time or at least not like previous week when he was not fast enough and ended up with a black-eye and soaring ribs. He didn’t know the reason of his _otchim’s_ aggression, he was trying to act quiet and to be as discreet as it was possible but somehow _he_ always resorted to violence in the interactions with Yuri. Maybe it was just Yuri being un unbearable shit.  
He hated it with all his heart — his alcoholic trash of the _otchim_ , his current life, the very fact that he is never safe at his own house and is forced to hide in the bathroom from the very person who is supposed to care about him being his legal guardian. He hated it and couldn’t do anything about it as he was just an another Russian teenager suffering from home abuse with government being much more interested in good statistics than actually protecting abused children. He didn’t even have anyone from whom he can seek some kind of sympathy as all people dear to him were either dead or too far away and probably had had forgotten about him long ago.

Yuri cursed once more and tirely slumped down to the floor. Bathroom tiles was cold and slightly wet but he didn’t even noticed that, hugging his knees and hiding his face in them. His _otchim_ was right at some things, after all, he was weak, he was stupid and he was absolutely useless. He completely stopped paying attention to thumps above his head. Maybe, it really was his fault. Maybe, if he was just a little better son his _mama_ would still be alive.

Yuri felt wetness in his eyes and moaned — he was truly miserable, crying like some kind of girly girl, as if his generally feminine appearance wasn’t enough to make him as much genderly inappropriate in his _otchim’s_ eyes as it was possible. He covered his face with both hands, trying to calm down. There was no use in tears, they never help and only make things worse. True man doesn’t cry and, though, he was not even much of a person he still could try to be a man.

Door on which he was leaning stopped to shake and he deduced that his _otchim_ had finally tired of trying to break in and strangle him to death and decided to find something else to do. Yuri exhaled and got on his feet holding on sink’s edges.

He looked into the mirror — his nose was okay but angry redness on his cheek were telling about bruising and have already started turning purple. He couldn't care less about how his face looked but he also didn’t want to draw any attention to him and bruises were definitely noticeable enough to raise suspicions.

He turned the tap on and washed his face, trying to clean it from the blood. His mouth felt dry and he poured some water in hands and drunk it, grimacing at the distinct metal taste. Yuri looked at himself once again and didn’t like how vulnerable he looked with that reddened eyes and wet and disheveled hair sticking to his face. He was weak, but he didn’t want to look like it.

He heard how the entrance door slammed shut marking his _otchim’s_ absence and he loosened up a little allowing himself to relax. It was Yuri’s best chance to have some peace and stop being alert every second as it was highly unlikely for _him_ to return home soon being quite attached to his bottle of vodka and fellow alcoholic friends in the garage of one of them.  
He waited several minutes, making sure that there is nobody except him at home, before he opened the door and cautiously walked into the hall.

There were no curses, no insults, no punches. Just a reek of a mixture of alcohol, sweat and spoiled food.

So, _he_ had gone for real. Yuri let out a heavy sigh. He was alone, truly alone, for the first time in many weeks, but he felt nothing about it. No relief for finally having an opportunity to drop his guard, no joy for having an opportunity to do something that he liked without being mocked or called out, just… nothing except for tire and soreness. It didn’t seem right but it was his life, so he just shrugged it off and walked towards the living room.

His eyes accidentally stopped on the set of dusted picture frames on the wall with his _mama’s_ old photographs from the times when she was still young, pretty and completely unaware of her future. Yuri had never seen her like this — happy and healthy, with sparkles in her eyes and lips curled up in a wide smile. She was a great beauty in her youth but for him she always was pale and worn out as if she was bleached, too tired to spare even a single look to her son. Yuri never was close with his mother but he still loved her nonetheless and maybe that’s why her death somehow like a betrayal. She died and left her child with _him_ escaping responsibilities as she always did.

Escaping…. Yuri picked up the picture, feeling a painful pinch in the chest. Firstly, when that thought had only occurred to him, he considered it as a mad one and tossed it away — truthfully, there was no way how someone can survive living on the streets without being tangled up with stealing, beggary and prostitution and he didn’t want to do any of that. However with his life gradually becoming worse and worse with every day he started to think about running away much more frequently. He was almost sixteen now, not long away from the age when he could try to become legally independent and there was no school for him now as he hadn’t stayed for the high school. Nobody would notice and nobody would ask as nobody cared about just another problematic teenager. Not even his _otchim_ as he would be too afraid to lose his guardianship money.

He frowned. He didn’t believe that he would manage to go alone with that but… Did he have another choice? Was living under the constant threat of being beaten bloody or even killed during one of _his_ delirium tremens any better? He didn’t know. The only thing that he really knew was the facts that he couldn’t live like that anymore.

Yuri took out one of the photographs — the only one with his whole family as he remembered it being together. His _dedushka_ was hugging his _mama_ as she was carrying little Yuri who held a small kitten in his arms. Yuri couldn’t help but feel sad and bitter about it. He was a big crybaby, really, and a pussy obviously but he loved his family.

He looked at his _dedushka_ smiling fondly as he remembered his old man’s jokes and games with him, his _pirozhki_ and _borscht_ , how he always tried to cheer his only _vnuk_ up whenever Yuri was feeling even slightly upset. His _dedushka_ loved him and cared about him and always was there for him being nothing like his _mama_ who left him behind and took him in only when she was absolutely forced. Yuri was sure, his _dedulya_ never wanted his beloved _vnuchok_ to end up like this, living in the fear and under the constant stress.

Yuri slided the photograph into his hoodie’s pocket. The decision was made.

The first step was taken.

He felt strange, emotionless and detached as if nothing had happened and nothing was happening right now. He found his passport and other documents and neatly folded them into his bag. He also took some clean clothes and few bottles of water. He charged his phone and put the charger into the bag too. He even found something edible in the fridge and had a dinner. The only problem was money as he summed up all his savings and found out that he owned barely a thousand of rubles. He toyed with the idea of selling some of technical devices from his home but abandoned it not willing to give his _otchim_ an opportunity to charge him with the thievery. Then he remembered that he know some pawn shops from his _gopnik_ friends where age and documents were never required and thought about selling his cross. He felt a twinge of guilt as such sacrilegious thought passed his mind but he never was much of a Christian and, though, it was his only material memory of his _mama_ it still didn’t feel right to wear it without being religious. Moreover, he supposed that the cross itself weighed somehow near three or four grammes and surely chain should weigh something too, so, maybe he even would be able to gain some good money from it. And he never was a good person, wasn’t he?

At least, if he was, he wouldn’t be in such situation.

Yuri put on a bag, his old shoes and worn jacket that had become not warm enough for the Petersburg winter and maybe never was. It didn’t matter, he hoped, as he wore several layers of clothes but, of course, it did. It was Russia and winter always was harsh and though he didn’t want to freeze to death, maybe, it was still a better way to meet his demise. Anything was a better way to meet his demise than staying at home.

He reached out to the doorknob and his heart finally started to beat faster. He felt panic, his breathing had quickened as he hadn’t have enough oxygen and strange, uneasy feeling appeared in his stomach, making him to want to throw up. With shaking hands he opened the door hating himself for his weakness — there was no reason for him to feel like that, everything was just fine and he still was acting like a huge pussy and it was just fucking pathetic — and stepped out of the flat, slammed the door and fled down the stairs frantically as he was being chased.

It was a quiet, dark night which he found somehow calming. Cold winter night air kissed Yuri’s cheeks chillingly and engulfed his body into its freeze. Snow was falling down, covering everything with white contrasting harshly with the darkness of the infamous Petersburg’s well-yard.

He felt neither freedom. nor safety, but it was Okay. Like, really okay. It still was something with which he could work.

Yuri looked at the clouded starless sky not stopping to be sick and unnerved.

He wasn’t a quitter and he didn’t have a choice.

He could work with it, tried he to reassure himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Viblyadok (выблядок) — literally and very offensive, an illegitimate child or just a rude way to refer to a child. Derives from a Russian swear-word «блядь» (blyad’), which (again, in the very offensive way) means «a whore» but is more often used as an interjection with the similar meaning as «fuck» and «shit».  
> Otchim (отчим) — a stepfather.  
> Drapat' (драпать) — a colloquial word, which means «to flee»  
> Gopnik (гопник) — an even more colloquial word, refering to a russian specific subculture of young men of low-class and poor education and income, living by street robbery. Often unites with A.U.E subculture (which, bacisally, is a romantisation of criminal and prison life). The closest term in english is street gang but it still differs enough. Have you ever seen slav squat? That's them.  
> blya (бля) — came from the blyad' but is used only as an interjection  
> pedik (педик) — a faggot  
> dedushka (дедушка) — a grandpa  
> dedulya (дедуля) — a granny, pa and other very affectionate names for your grandfather  
> vnuk — a grandson  
> vnuchok — an affectionate way to call your grandson  
> pirozhki — a puff pastry which consists of individual-sized baked or fried buns stuffed with a variety of fillings  
> Borscht — here a soup's variant of Ukrainian origin, made with beetroots as one of the main ingredients, which give the dish its distinctive red color
> 
> There was a bitter mention from Yuri about how government is not interested in abused children and, sadly, that's true. Although, generally, there are special laws regulating children's services work most of them applied either very rarely or not applied at all as the whole system is corrupted and is drowning in the bureaucracy. It doesn't help that due to the governmental propaganda many parents are afraid of juvenile court which in Russia plays role of a children's service supposing that it will take their children away even for pretty minor offences.  
> Yuri also hadn't complete his secondary education as he dropped out after finishing middle school which is not uncommon. Usually, such students apply for colleges which in Russian educational system takes much lower place than ones in the USA but Yuri, obviously, didn't do it as "there is no school for him".


End file.
